The Elemental Cycle III: Fire Spirit
by kazeno
Summary: *Dear* Seifer-sama's past. Sorry for the delay but fanfiction.net lost this when I posted it three days ago...


#### Ah hells - Fanfiction.net lost it the first time I posted this. Well ... here it is again ... Oops - I forgot the disclaimer. I'm always forgetting the disclaimer. Well, in a nutshell - CHARACTERS, SQUARESOFT. STORY, MINE. STEAL? RAGE!!!

#### The Elemental Cycle III: Fire Spirit

**_'Bitch!'_**

**_'Who're you callin' a bitch, you double-dealing adulterer?'_**

**_'Get out of my house!'_**

**_'Gladly! As soon as you pay me the four thousand gil you owe me!'_**

**_'What four thousand gil, bitch? I owe you nothing!'_**

**_'Like hell you do! My money ... or my son! Four thousand gil is nothing compared to him!'_**

**_'Don't daydream! It's my__ son, and he's staying with me__! Rosalynn can take care of him, which you__ can't seem to do!'_**

**_'Rosalynn? Rosalynn? __She's a witch and she ain't goin' near my baby boy!'_**

**_'That 'baby boy' is four years old, Farah! And it's not your __son!'_**

**_'What do you mean not my son?'_**

**_'Exactly what I mean. Rosalynn took care of him, she raised him - you're nothing but a slut who donated some genes to him and bore him!'_**

**_'I went through hell for him!' _**

**_'And that gives you the right to dump him? What kind of mother is that?'_**

**_'Fine then. Have Rosalynn take care of him! My four thousand gil!'_**

**_'Here's a thousand, and I don't ever want to see your ugly face again!'_**

**_The boy woke with a scream, the commotion waking Rosalynn, his mother. The slender, black-haired woman shot out of bed, slightly disoriented, and rushed over to him. She took him into her arms; whispering something that he couldn't hear, only feel that it was reassuring. He panted, still reeling from the force and intensity of the dream._**

**And yet he somehow felt that it was _real, that he'd heard something like that one night while he was half-asleep. But the memory was faded and blurred, and he wasn't even sure if it was a true memory or just a dream._**

**He hugged his mother, feeling the reassuring warmth, the solid reality, and felt safe.**

** **

**'Rosalynn, we don't have the money for it!'**

**'I know, but can't we find a way? The child is five years old, Jay, he has to learn _something.'_**

**'What good's knowing something if the brat can't eat?'**

**'Jay! Apprentice him to someone! It doesn't cost _that much, it's just that you'd rather use the money for gambling and drinking!'_**

**Once again the child was witnessing an argument. He knew enough to know that they were arguing about him. He didn't like it when people argued about him. It made him feel bad.**

**'Mama?' He stepped forward timidly, pulling at her shirt. 'No money, nemmind.'**

**'Child.' Rosalynn smiled down at him sadly. 'You have to be in school. Otherwise you'll grow up like me.'**

**'Wan' grow up like you!'**

**She smiled at him again. 'Go on back, you.' The boy stared up at her for a little while, then went back to his room and continued listening out the door. He had a vague notion that it wasn't exactly nice to listen at doors, but right now he wanted to know what was going on.**

**'Jay ...'**

**'Rosalynn.' The man's voice was hard. 'The boy is mine. I'll do with him as I wish.'**

**'You force my hand. I have no choice.'**

**'But ...?'**

**'Leave.'**

**'Go on,' he waved a hand lazily. 'No one's stopping you.'**

**The boy rocketed out the door and grabbed Rosalynn's skirt, clinging to her. 'Don't go!' he pleaded. 'Mom!'**

**'I'm not your mom,' she said sadly, and ruffled his hair, pulling free. 'It's been fun, Jay. And remember - the way you and he are going, both of you are walking the path of destruction.'**

**Then she walked out the door.**

** **

**A six-year-old boy glared at the smaller boy in front of him with the fierceness of a bulldog. His father had taken Rosalynn's words to heart, teaching him a trade - Jay's trade - bullying. His father called it 'well-applied terror' which was simply picking on younger and smaller boys and girls, stealing things from them or simply making them cry, for the fun of it. His father had taught him to enjoy it, terrorizing the smaller children.**

**'Gimme!' he yelled, reaching for the money in the boy's hand. It was usually easy to do this - they scared easily. The other boy, small and weak, didn't make a move to resist. The older boy glared contemptuously at him, and turned to leave. Behind him, the wimp started to cry. He sniffed, again contemptuously. Weak, the boy was. They all were.**

**'Good boy.' He looked up to see the dark bulk of his father before him. The boy kept on staring up defiantly until his father delivered a blow that sent his small body tumbling backwards onto the street. 'Brave boy - you can act like that, but never with _me.'_**

**The boy checked his angry words and glared sullenly. His father held out a hand. 'The gil. _Now.'_**

**He dumped the notes into his father's hand with a flourish.**

**'Good. Go, run off and play. See what else you can get.'**

**The boy obeyed his father, but inwardly he was raging.**

****

**Two days later, the selfsame boy sat on his bed, sharpening a penknife. A half-eaten piece of bread lay on the plate beside him, but he didn't really seem aware of it. The child was absorbed in the magazine half-open beside him, where a little symbol painted on a shield was shown. **

**The symbol was a red cross, but yet looked a little like a sword. The caption on the article read 'The Cross-Sword - A Symbol of Honor or Death?' The history was, to put it shortly, fascinating.**

******[Author's Note: This is loosely adapted from some old Arthurian legends.]**

**_"The cross sword was reputably the symbol of the knights of old, who defended the sorceresses in the First Sorceress War. Mostly, the symbol was painted on their shields, swords or surcoats, as a symbol of honor and courage. One of the most famous, and yet controversial figures to use the cross sword symbol was none other than the fabled Sir Galan, knight to the Great Hyne herself."_**

**_"There are many legends on Sir Galan dating back to the Sorceress War. They are wildly varied, with some stating that Sir Galan was a kind, benevolent man, and others that he was a cruel, ruthless tyrant. Most of the legends agree on one thing, though: he was the greatest fighter alive."_**

**_The boy blinked at the symbol. It was oddly fascinating._**

**The crash of the door being slammed resounded through the house, and he sighed. His father had undoubtedly been drinking. Moments later, a second crash made him jump. Oh great - he had brought another drunk whore in with him.**

**Voices rose in the living room, and the boy crawled out to look.**

**'Damn you, you bitch! I thought I told you never to come back here!'**

**'I got rights, ya bastard. Don't ya dare! I've come to get my son!'**

**A loud roar - 'Get out, ya bitch! An' if I see you here again, I'll kill ya!'**

**'You couldn't kill a fly, you ape!'**

**He heard the sounds of a scuffle, then a loud crash. The boy, frightened, peeked out from his door - his father was lying on the floor, long blond hair turned red by blood, blue eyes glazed in death. A pool of blood oozed from his boy, flowing from the gaping wound in his chest where someone had shot him - __**

**_The youngster's eyes traveled upwards, to a slim woman with dark brown hair and green-gray eyes, crouched in an aggressive stance, gun in her hands still smoking._**

**She caught sight of him; dropped the gun and ran towards the stunned boy.**

**Before he could react, she caught him up in a crushing hug. 'My little baby-poo,' she cooed. Disgusted, the boy tried to kick her. The stranger was obviously drunk. He could smell the alcohol on her breath, she was that close. He tried to push away, but she stuck fast like a leech. 'Your father's son, I see,' she observed in a rare moment of sanity. Her expression hardened. 'Come.'**

**Grabbing hold of his arm, she dragged him to a car parked outside. Forcing him in, she strapped him to the back seat while he kicked and squirmed, trying to get away from the madwoman.**

**She finally got him strapped in, got into the front seat, and the car lurched away from sidewalk crazily. It was all the small child could do to hold his balance in the bucking car seat.**

**Peeking out the window, he quickly ducked back down. After a few tries, he managed to free himself from the straps - they were sloppily tied. He looked out the window again, and quickly ducked beneath the seat, curling up there. His brief glimpse through the window had shown him cars rushing by at an unbelievable rate. **

**It was inevitable, given the way the drunken woman was driving. One moment, the car was rumbling along, the woman alternately shooting curses at other drivers and singing snatches of a song. And in the next, he heard a muffled 'Oh shit!' and a scream.**

**The car slammed into something; he heard the screech of tires and the crash and tinkle of the windscreen breaking. Heard the thump as the drunkard slammed into something. Heard other sounds, unpleasant ones as he was bounced around like a squash ball in the little space he crouched in.**

**He heard a thump as his own body hit something hard - the world had become a spinning vortex of darkness, and he couldn't see anything. A moment later, he lost all his senses completely.**

**His father seemed to be waiting for him.**

** **

**It was quiet. That was the first thing he noticed - quiet, except for the 'beep-beep' coming from somewhere beside him. His body felt strange, like it didn't belong to him. And it ached and hurt in strange places. **

**He cracked one eye open and tried to focus. All he could see was - white. White walls, white door, white bed ...**

**...And the dark form of a woman beside his bed.**

He opened the other eye to glare rebelliously at her. She didn't seem to notice, scrutinizing him with sad, dark eyes.

**After a moment, she looked down, seeming to read a file on her lap. The boy experimented with moving his hand.**

**'Seifer Almasy?' The quite voice sounded abnormally loud to him.**

**'Yeah,' he muttered sullenly.**

**'I'm sorry to tell you that your father Jay is dead. And your mother Farah died in the crash.'**

**'Boo hoo.' He never cared for his father anyway. As for that madwoman-**

**'As an orphan, you'll be moved to my orphanage as soon as you're well enough.'**

**Seifer rolled his eyes upwards. 'That's great,' he mumbled.**

**Somehow he felt he wouldn't like it.**

** **

** **


End file.
